


Go, Go, Go

by Profrock



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Break Up, M/M, Sex on a Car, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profrock/pseuds/Profrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is stuck. Dead-end job, boyfriend who left him, nothing is going how he planned. And then a sexy stranger in an even sexier car obliterates Dan's whole life going a hundred and twenty miles per hour, and all he can go is hold on tight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go, Go, Go

**Author's Note:**

> okay so yes i know this is an over-used prompt but hey i maseratis are sexy and so is phil welcome to this drunken rave i call my brain have fun

“Dan!” PJ called, kicking the door open. I jumped, startled, fumbling my phone back into my pocket before I realized who it was. “Oh,” I sighed, taking my phone back out and staring down at it. “What do you want?”

 

“Come out front with me for my smoke break?”

 

I sighed again, lifting my head towards PJ but keeping my eyes glued to my phone screen. “Yeah, sure.” I followed him out of the storage room I had holed myself up in, only looking up when I was in immediate danger of running onto the wall.

 

The automatic doors slid open and I stepped into the windy spring air, shivering as my hair prickled in the cold. PJ was leaned up twenty feet down against the concrete wall of the Tesco’s in which we both worked. I groaned dramatically, dragging myself down the pavement to stand beside him.

 

Smoking, I had decided, was one of those things I appreciated as an abstract idea and aesthetic rather than something I actually do. The first time PJ tried to teach me how to smoke I ended up dry heaving into his toilet for thirty minutes while he laughed and patted my shoulder sympathetically. I marveled at the way Peej’s head was tipped back, curls flopping down over his forehead and chest expanding with every inhale, lips puckering into a perfect ‘o’ as he exhaled, the smoke curling upwards, indistinguishable against the foggy sky. I shivered, shoving my hands further into my pockets.

 

“You okay mate?” PJ asked, smoke curling out of his lips and nostrils like a dragon. I mumbled some vague noise of assent, scuffing my sneakers against the sidewalk.

 

“Dan,” PJ said, in that voice that wasn’t exactly stern but made me stop pacing and look up nonetheless. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” I mumbled, flicking my eyes down to his chin, to the ugly black polo shirt they made us wear during out shifts, to the chain peeking out of his front pocket, until I was staring at my shoes again. I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand.

 

PJ watched me silently, taking another drag of his cigarette and breathing out to the side. He tapped his smoke, my eyes following the smattering of ashes as they floated gently to the ground.

 

“Come on Dan, don’t go all emo on me now.”

 

“’M not emo,” I argued half-heartedly, my eyes scanning, bored, over the parking lot. A light blue truck turned out into oncoming traffic. I hunched my shoulders further in on myself.

 

PJ smoked in silence for a few moments longer, knowing sooner or later I would fess up. I groaned, kicking a stray bottle lid into the street.

 

“Oliver dumped me.”

 

PJ’s eyes immediately softened, and he dropped his still-burning butt, grinding it out under his heel out of habit.

 

“I’m sorry,” he offered gently, extending his arms for a hug. I shuffled forward, awkwardly folding myself so his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my head was buried in his chest. I blew a sigh into his neck and he moved his hand, rubbing comfortingly over my back.

 

“S’okay,” I mumbled, stepping backwards and wiping furiously at the tears that began to form in the corners of my eyes. “I’ll live, I guess. I still have the garage and all my babies, I’ll be fine.”

 

PJ cracked a soft smile. “You know, I worry about you spending too much time out there. One of these days your blood is going to be replaced by coffee, spite, and motor oil.” I allowed myself to giggle, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re the one I worry about. Spend too much more time at those underground clubs and you’ll be blind except for ultraviolet blacklights and sequins.”   


“Touché,” PJ grinned. I smiled back.

 

“Come on, lets get back inside,” PJ said, tossing an arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards the door.

 

I hummed, sloping back towards the door until something caught my eye. I whipped my head up, probably giving myself whiplash from how fast I moved.

 

“Dan, what – oh.” PJ followed my gaze, which was locked onto the _gorgeous_ car that was pulling into the parking lot.

 

Two door. Jet black. _Maserati._ I whimpered.

 

PJ looked at me sideways, but I was far too absorbed in the perfectly reflective exterior of the car to care.

 

“PJ…” I whispered, looking back to him with pupils blown wide. I was somewhat aware of the fact that my face resembled that of a ten-year-old boy who just saw a girl in a bikini for the first time, but I really didn’t care.

 

I heard the car door open from across the parking lot, swinging my gaze back around to watch the headlights dim and the door swing open.

 

If I wasn’t dead just because of the car, I sure as hell was now.

 

Blood-red Doc Martians hit the pavement, and I just about melted back into PJ.

 

“Alright, take your convertible stiffy inside, we’ve been out here longer than our break, come on,” PJ said, shepherding me back into the building. I stole another glance back as PJ pushed me forward, my eyes landing on long legs and shapely hips, black jeans falling low over skull print boxer-briefs as the guy looked for something in his car. He straightened up as I passed over the threshold of the door, and I caught the briefest of glances of dark fringe, pale skin, and mirrored aviators resting on high cheekbones. I lolled my head back on PJ’s shoulder as he shoved me over to the back room, mumbling “But he just looks so _good_.”

 

“Yes, I know,” PJ said, ushering me into the back room. I peek through the windows of the double doors as he goes to find the boxes that we’re supposed to restock, hoping to all hell that I would get to see the wonderfully sexy stranger with the even sexier car again.

 

No such luck.

 

I pouted, turning back and leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. “Why must you take all of my hopes and dreams away from me?” I asked PJ as he returned with a dolly full of boxes.

 

“Because I’m just a bastard like that,” he said, tossing me two exacto knives, which I somehow managed to catch.

 

I held open the swinging door as PJ pushed the dolly out, wheeling it to aisle 5 where we were supposed to restock the crisps. I knelt with a sigh, flicking open the blade and slicing dramatically through the tape holding the flaps of the crisps box closed. PJ rolled his eyes, taking the bags I handed up to him and shoving them onto the shelves. We worked in silence for a few minutes, until the task was done. I stood up, leaning down to brush the dust from my knees.

 

“Dan,” PJ whispered lowly. “I’m not saying anything, but cute guy with the car may or may not be behind you and also pull up your pants.” I jumped up, my face burning, quickly hoisting my jeans up by the belt loops.

 

PJ laughed at my glaring expression, tucking the knives into his pocket and tossing the empty boxes back onto the dolly. I peeked out of the corner of my eye at the stranger as we pass him.

 

The mirrored aviators were pushed up onto the top of his head, pushing the fringe I saw earlier into a messy quiff. A black and white striped long-sleeved shirt was pushed up to his elbows, exposing pale arms covered in mesmerizing swirls of color and ink. Bright blue eyes twinkled with amusement, following me as PJ dragged me down the aisle by the wrist. The doors to the back room swung shut and I groaned, banging my head softly on the wall.

 

“Why is he so cute and why do I want him to fuck me over the hood of his car why does god hate me?” I mumbled, slumping against the wall and blowing my fringe out of my face. PJ patted my head sympathetically.

 

“Come on,” he said, nudging my shoulder. “We’re supposed to be behind the registers in two minutes.”

 

“Ughhh,” I groaned, picking myself up and wandering out the door that PJ held open for me.

 

“But Peej,” I whined, tugging on his sleeve like a child. “Did you see that? Did you _see_ him? But also the car? That’s a 2015 Maserati GranCabrio Sport, okay. Zero to one hundred in _five fucking seconds_. Max engine speed of seventy-two _hundred_ rpm. Imagine feeling that under your hands okay, purring like a fucking kitten –“ “Dan, I love you, but shut up,” PJ said, stepping behind the chest-high counter that designated the employee’s area-slash-office. I huffed but complied, crossing my arms and slouching against the back wall.

 

PJ stepped out to take Cassie’s place at register four, leaving me alone in the pseudo-office. I sighed, something I had been doing a lot of that day, flicking my eyes disinterestedly over the counters. Files, files, pen with a fake flower taped to it, laptop, store-wide PA system, more files, a small stuffed dog – wait. Store-wide PA system?

 

A tiny, niggling thought appeared in the back of my mind, my feet drifting over towards the phone before I really thought about it, my hand resting lightly on top of the handset.

 

Without a second thought – or first one, really – I picked up the phone, pausing the weirdly catchy surf-rock song that was playing over the store’s speakers. My heart was pounding in my ears when I brought the speaker side of the phone up to my mouth.

 

“Will the owner of the jet-black Maserati please fuck me.”

 

My voice echoed, loud and tinny, throughout the store, the wonky guitars picking right up from where they left off when I slammed the receiver back into its cradle, my tongue suddenly too big for my desert-dry mouth. I peeked up from underneath my fringe, my eyes immediately locking with shocked blue ones. I flashed a smirk and wink, unsure of where all of this sudden brave stupidity had come from. I knew I was dumb and reckless, but this was an all time low, even for me.

 

At least fifty people looked up at the ceiling, some amused, some angry, but most just confused. All of my coworker’s eyes seemed to swing on me at once, and I ducked beneath the counter.

 

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck and another dumpster full of fuck._ Lucille, the manager, clopped towards where I was hidden with a look of pure hate that could make a professional wrestler cry, swaying slightly on the stiletto heels that brought her height up to a grand total of five foot four. _Make that two dumpsters._

 

PJ materialized at my elbow, ushering me out of the enclosed area and towards where he was ringing the cute guy up, violently muttering for me to “keep your head down and bag.”

 

I blushed, biting my lip and shaking my hair into my face, stealing the occasional glance up at the guy.

 

Either he was staring at me, or he was psychic and just so happened to glance up exactly when I did. PJ rang him up silently, not even trying to start up the usual small talk.

 

“Was that you,” he paused, his eyes flickering briefly to my obnoxious red nametag, “Dan? Over the speakers?”

 

I blushed harder at my name said in his deep, Northern accent, nodding hesitantly.

 

“That’s eighty-six thirty-one,” PJ piped up, nervously drumming his fingers on the metal counter of the checkout station as he followed Lucille’s stomping tantrum with his eyes.

 

The guy handed PJ a handful of bills without taking his eyes off of me. I finished packing quickly, internally apologizing for placing the bananas on top of the bread.

 

The guy pocketed his change, still watching me. When he spoke next it was curious, calculated. “Will you help me bring these to my car?”

 

PJ and I had a full conversation with our eyebrows in the space of a second, before I nodded and picked up two of the plastic bags. “Of course, sir.”  


The guy picked up the remaining two bags, leading me out of the doors.

 

I stumbled slightly as I stepped off the curb, cursing my awkwardly large feet.

 

The guy set down the bags he was holding in order to fish in the pocket of his – sinfully tight – jeans and get his keys, popping the trunk with a soft noise. He loaded his bags into the trunk and then took mine from my hands. I pretended not to notice how warm and soft his hands were.

 

He closed the trunk with a careful push. Obviously he cared about the car.

 

I coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as he leaned against the back of his car and stared at me.

 

“If that’s all, sir, then I should probably be – “ “Wait,” he interrupted, the single syllable heavy and decisive. I stopped talking.

 

“Back in there, was that an invitation?” My heart stopped at his question. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins.

 

“Are you offering?” I really hated my smart mouth sometimes.

 

“And if I am?” His face was impassive.

 

My mouth opened but no words came out, my lips flapping open and closed before I snapped my jaw shut and stared at my shoes. “Yes?” I said meekly, peeking up from underneath my hair.

 

He considered me for a few long seconds, his eyes dripping down my body. It was only when he met my eyes again that I realized he had been checking me out. I blushed harder.

 

With a nod and a smirk, he fished his keys out of his pocket again, dangling them from a single car key, the rest jangling lightly with the movement. I stared at the guy, confused.

 

“Do you want to take him for a ride?”

 

My jaw dropped open again, my fingers reaching out for the key before I could stop myself. I halted suddenly, narrowing my eyes as I brought my hand back to my chest. He chuckled at my calculating expression. “I heard you talking to your friend earlier. Least I could do before I bring a boy home.”

 

“I – you –“ my tongue tripped to form coherent words. It wasn’t being terribly good at it.

 

He hiked an eyebrow up, closing his fist around the keys. “Unless, of course, you don’t want that.”

 

“Oh, but dear god I do,” I mumbled, my eyes tracing longingly over the almost _sensual_ curves of the car’s exterior, my own distorted reflection staring back at me. I ran a quick cost/benefit analysis in my head:

 

_Pros: You get to drive the car; probably sex; he most likely won’t murder you and dump your body in a lake; you’re going to be fired anyways because of that little stunt you pulled, who cares if you bump off?_

_Cons: Still that tiny chance of gruesome murder._

 

 Worth it.

 

“Give ‘em,” I said, and he grinned big, tossing me the keys.

 

The driver’s side door handle was cool and smooth under my fingers and I took a moment to just stroke my fingers across the hood. The guy was smiling at me with warm eyes, leaning with his elbow on the top of the windshield, watching me.

 

I eventually snapped far enough out of my admiration reverie to unlock and open the door, slinging my leg inside and siting gingerly on the cream-colored leather.

 

A tiny whimper escaped my lips when the engine started, purring, powerful and poised, under my hands. I didn’t miss the guy’s sideways glance at that, but I really couldn’t have cared less.

 

“Where can I go?” I asked, peeling my eyes from the center console and focusing on the guy’s face.

 

“He has about a hundred twenty miles in the tank, but I don’t have my passport on me.” I stared at him. “Anywhere?”

 

“Just don’t wrap him around a tree.”

 

I threw the car into reverse, the perfect spot coming immediately to mind.

 

Driving that Maserati on city streets, narrow, delineated streets with other cars and pedestrians, was as close as there is to hell on earth. The raw power under my feet that had to be contained just about broke my heart. The car jumped forward each time I restarted him from a stop, only to be slowed again by pesky traffic lights and people. I drummed my fingers impatiently on the wheel, just _waiting_ to be on the open road.

 

I blew a few stop signs as we reached the edge of the city, but neither me nor the guy cared, if the way he lolled his head back, sunglasses pushed up high on his nose, the wind bowing his hair across his face as a grin split his lips was any indication.

 

I turned up a two-lane road, pressing the gas incrementally harder as the needle of the odometer crept upwards. _100 kmph. 110. 125._

 

The guy had sat up by the time we were zooming through grassy hills, the needle hovering at 140. He alternated between staring at the passing hills and me, his eyes unreadable behind his aviators. I glanced up at him a couple of times, cracking a half smile before flicking my eyes back to the road in front of me. I pressed the gas harder, an involuntary giggle-turned-gasp as the car lurched back momentarily before speeding forward, my back pressed flat against the white leather seat and the wind blowing so hard my eyes watered and my hair flicked like tiny knives against my forehead.

 

 _This,_ I thought, _is what living feels like._ I ripped the stupid plastic nametag from the front of my shirt, tossing it into the small stream running parallel to the road.

 

The guy looked at me with surprised eyebrows before nodding once and leaning forward to fiddle with some buttons on the center console.

 

“I hope you like Muse!” he shouted, the opening note of _Supremacy_ flowing out through the speakers before getting snatched up by the wind.

 

“Hell yes!” I hollered back, shouting along as Matt Bellamy’s voice trickled into my ears. “ _Wake to see your true emancipation is a fantasy…”_

 

We reached out destination in mere minutes, my foot pressing the brake sadly as we rolled to a stop at the beginning of the abandoned airfield.

 

The guy – I really should ask his name, I noted – looked at me curiously. “I’ve never known about this place.” I smiled back, teasing the engine gently. “I bring some of the cars I fix up here. It’s a nice place to test drive where you don’t need to worry about crashing into anything.”

 

He nodded, eyeing the way my fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

 

“Turning circle of twelve point three meters,” I said, fixing him with a dangerous smirk. “Four sixty horsepower. Top speed of two eighty-five kmph. Zero to one hundred in five seconds.” He looked impressed. The engine roared, shuddering slightly under the hood.

 

I released the break and we shot off like a party popper on New Year’s, the spinning tires eating up the cracked asphalt. They guy was screaming with laughter in the passenger seat, the sounds of his hollers mixing with my own shouts of euphoria and the crooning notes seeping out from the speakers. My hair was slapping against my forehead like a bullwhip, stinging tears whipped off of my cheeks as the car’s speed climbed steadily.

 

“Hold on!” I shouted, gauging the distance between the car and the steep dip into the ravine below. “What?” the guy shouted back, his voice ripped away by the wind. _A thousand feet away_.

 

There wasn’t time to repeat myself.

 

I lifted my foot from the gas pedal as we entered the hundred-foot range of the drop, yanking the wheel to the left as hard as I could, gritting my teeth.

 

“Holy sh-“ the guy yelled, bracing himself against the door. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his eyes were wide under his reflective shades, which were beginning to slip down his nose with the force of the turn. I whooped with laughter and adrenaline as the car turned a full one-eighty, swerving slightly before straightening out and speeding off back the way we came. I glanced at the skid marks that were fast disappearing from my review mirror, begrudgingly slowing the car to a halt as it reached the mouth of the road we drove in on.

 

The guy next to me was breathing heavily, his eyes sparking from behind where his glasses had slid halfway down his nose.

 

“You-“ he gulped, panting, leaning his head back against the headrest. My heart was racing as fast as the car had been, adrenaline burning like gasoline in my veins.

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” I groaned, prying my hands off of the wheel and slumping back in my seat. “He handles like a _dream_ , oh my god.” I turn to lock my glassy gaze onto the guy’s, still chattering away about technologies and statistics. He removed his glasses, setting them in the glove compartment and flicking it closed before grabbing me by the front of my shirt and pulling me in for a searing kiss.

 

My head was buzzing, electricity-laced blood shot through my copper-wire veins, every touch and move and messy slide of tongues thrown into high alert.

 

I clambered gracelessly over the center console, my neck growing uncomfortable at the positioning and the armrest digging painfully into my stomach, repositioning myself to straddle the guy.

 

“You-“ I gasped as he undid his seatbelt and surged up to swallow my words, our teeth clacking painfully but neither of us caring. We separated for the briefest of moments, my glassy brown eyes meeting his blown-out blue ones, his mouth shiny and spit-slick and his breathing heavy.

 

I threw my head back as he attacked my neck, gasping out half-formed obscenities as I grabbed the windshield behind me for support.

 

His hands crept up my shirt, sliding hot and heavy over my hips and I groaned, grabbing his face with two hands and slotting our mouths together.

 

“I don’t even know your name,” I choked out between furious kisses, my hips grinding down onto his of their own volition.

 

“Phil,” he gasped, his grip spasming on my hips when I ground down against him.

 

“Phil,” I groaned out, carding one of my hands through his hair to yank his head to a better angle.

 

An idea popped into my head, half-formed and drowned out by the rest of the sensations surrounding me, but I was too far gone to care.

 

“Dan.” His hips kicked when I lifted up slightly, searching for the friction I was no longer giving him. “What - you-“

 

“You,” I said decisively, leaning down to suck kisses under his jaw “are going to fuck me over the hood of your car. That is like, a thing that should happen. Like now, preferably.”

 

Phil groaned and nodded. I opened the door and stumbled out of the car, Phil quick to follow and even quicker to reattach his lips to mine.

  
We stumbled gracelessly around to the front of the car, Phil’s warm hands gripping my cheeks, my hair, my hips. He pushed me down over the hood with one hand between my shoulder blades, fumbling my belt and jeans open and yanking them half-way down my thighs. I spread my legs as far as I could when he stepped between them, the hand that wasn’t on my back stroking my lower back and hips, two fingers dipping into the waistband of my boxers.

 

“Can I take these off?” he muttered, husky and deep into my ear. I shivered before nodding furiously, gasping when I felt his warm palms stroking over my backside.

 

The hood was still warm under my chest, the glossy metal bordering on too hot but I didn’t care. I lifted up when Phil rucked my shirt up further, shaking and moaning as he pressed sloppy open-mouthed kisses down my spine. “ _Yes_ ,” I panted, my breath catching on a gasp when the rough pad of his thumb teased my entrance, his hot tongue following close behind.

 

My head spun with sensation, my thighs trembling when Phil’s fingers and tongue worked me open, scrabbling with my fingertips to find purchase against the slick hood. A small, vaguely rational part of me was silently thanking whatever god reminded me to cut my fingernails the night before, or else I would have been scratching up the beautiful paint.

 

“Please,” I begged, pushing my hips back onto Phil’s tongue, gasping when he gripped my hips and stepped back. I shifted impatiently, hyper-aware of the sounds of a clanking belt, shifting denim, and a rip of what I assumed to be a condom wrapper behind me.

 

“Phil,” I moaned when his tongue pressed into me again, gasping and clutching at the warm metal. “Please, just – Please, I need –“

 

“S’okay,” he mumbled from between my thighs. I moaned outright when he spit, saliva dripping sticky and cool between my cheeks.

 

“You good?” he asked again, one hand pressing down between my shoulder blades and the other holding the base of his cock steady. I nodded eagerly.

 

My jaw dropped and my eyes rolled into the back of my head when he pressed in, thick and slick and big enough to sting. He moved slowly, tortuously slowly, my every nerve ending on fire when his hips touched mine. A low, throaty noise I didn't have control over escaped, and I pulled in a shuddery breath. 

 

“You alright?” he asked, and I could hear the restrain in his voice, all of the energy it was costing him to stay still.

 

“Yes, perfect Phil, ple-“ My desperate pleas were cut short when he moved, pulling most of the way out before thrusting forward hard and slow.

 

He quickly built up a fast, punishing rhythm, high-pitched ‘ah’s forced out of my parted lips every time his thrust back in. He changed his angle slightly, hitting my prostate and I screamed, my back arching involuntarily as Phil growled and shoved me back down. One of his hands came to grip my shoulder for better leverage, my eyes sliding closed with the forceful waves of pleasure that rocketed through me with every thrust.

 

It was mere minutes before I could feel the heat coiling thick and familiar in my gut.

 

“Phil,” I gasped, breaking off into a broken moan when he pressed my prostate particularly hard. “Phil, no, stop please, gonna-“ He halted abruptly, snatching his hands away from me as he pulled out. “Oh shit, oh my god I’m so sorry what did I do?”

 

“Nothing,” I groaned, wincing as I peeled my sweat-sticky stomach off of the car’s hood. I pulled Phil in, gasping against his lips when our cocks slid together, giving me such delicious friction. “Just don’t wanna get come on your paint job.”

 

Phil groaned, anchoring one hand in my hair and sliding the other down between our stomachs, grasping both of our cocks in a loose fist. I moaned against his lips, panting and trembling as his hand worked me to completion, shaking and coming all over his hand and stomach. He watched me as I came, watched me pant and jerk as he thumbed my slit.

 

I came down from my high slowly, breathing heavily and cracking open one eye only to be met with a face full of Phil, his pupils blown and jaw hanging sack as he worked his hand over his own cock.

 

“No,” I whined, batting his hand out of the way and taking his cock in mine, leaning in to suck dark marks in the sweat-slicked skin of his neck. His hands gripped my hips hard, as he gasped and came, moaning a broken “Dan…” as he spilled over my hand.

 

We stood there for a few moments, just breathing in each other’s air. Phil was the first to move, stepping back so he could work his shirt off over his head, leaving him in a tight black tank top and sleeves of ink that curled up past his shoulders. He cleaned the both of us off, wadding up the now soiled shirt and tossing it carelessly in the back seat.

 

I blushed as I hiked my jeans and underwear over the curve of my butt, shifting awkwardly as the denim and cotton chafed along my skin.

 

“Um.” Phil smiled sheepishly as he did up his own pants, averting his eyes from my face and clearing his throat.

 

“Umsoyou’rereallycuteandwonderfulandyouhaveareallycoolcarandthesexwasawesomeandI’dliketopossoiblymaybegettoknowyoubetterifthat’sokaywithyouImean,” I mumbled out in one breath, Phil’s face twisting into confusion for a few moments, until he realized what I had said and broke into a grin.

 

“Yeah,” he said, bringing up one hand to brush his hair down from where the wind seemed hell-bent on styling it up. “I’d like that too.”

 

I tipped a crooked smile towards him, leaning in hesitantly. Phil didn’t move back, just tilted his head and fluttered his eyes half-closed. His lips ghosted over mine, sweet and salty, and just a little bit chapped. He pulled back with a soft noise, smiling softly down at me. “Do you want to come back to mine? I’ll drive.”

 

“Yeah,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat. I popped open the glove compartment as Phil climbed into the driver’s side, taking out his aviators as the car started. He giggled, staring at me with fondness in his eyes. I grinned back and settled into my seat, pushing the glasses farther up my nose.

 

Phil threw me a smile as the tires spun and squealed, the both of us speeding over the cracked and uneven pavement towards the endless blue sky. 

 

 _Yeah, ****_I thought. _I could definitely get used to this._


End file.
